


The King's Handbook (or: Kinging for Dummies)

by slightly_murderous_sorcerer (emerald_witch_esmeralda)



Series: The King's Handbook [1]
Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: (bcuz bottom Louis is my jam y'all), Bottom Louis, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Frenemies, I guess that makes top William my peanut butter, Infidelity, M/M, Throne Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 11:34:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20308807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emerald_witch_esmeralda/pseuds/slightly_murderous_sorcerer
Summary: William has just been crowned the new King of England. Louis, as a seasoned vet monarch decides to drop by and give the new king some pointers.





	The King's Handbook (or: Kinging for Dummies)

**Author's Note:**

> Yet ANOTHER Wouis fanfic by yours truly...(i'm writing this shit when I should be asleep and have to be at work in 8 hours, but oh well). There's some amazing Wouis fic on this site (there's like me and four other people writing for this fandom) and I've pretty much read it all. But something shocks me...something I had to personally correct.
> 
> How has NOBODY written throne sex for these two yet?! I mean I read a totally amazing Wouis fic by the uber talented anything_thats_rock_and_roll that had them in the throne room (their fic is on POINT, check 'em out please) but no actual throne sex. I mean if you're fucking a monarch, especially when you're both monarchs...throne sex is a REQUIREMENT, especially for these two! I mean how does one write about the two most powerful and extra kings in Europe and they don't bone on the throne ONCE? I've been meaning to write some for them for a while and I finally got around to it, y'all are welcome and I love you ;)
> 
> Alright, foreign language translate shit:  
Mijn zonneschjin: "my sunshine (Dutch)"  
Ventrebleu: an archaic French oath, like "Sacrebleu" except like 17th century style.
> 
> Now...ENJOY THE FIC! Bcuz I certainly enjoyed writing it.

**Westminster Abbey, 1689**

  
“I hereby proclaim you by the grace of almighty God, William, King of England, Ireland and Wales!” William remained kneeling as the priest crowned him, and then stood as he received the orb and scepter...this was the moment that he had gone to war for, and it was finally here. These people were his subjects now, and he was their king. His wife, Mary stood by his side looking every bit resplendent in her golden gown...he has to confess that his breath hitched at the sight of her. When he took her hand, the entire church erupted into applause and it took everything in William not to smile, looking out on the crowd. Kings and queens had turned out to support him as well, and it was a great feeling to see all his people who _chose_ him, unlike most kings. He may not have been chosen by God but he was chosen by his people, and that warmed his heart. But his smile quickly faded when he saw a familiar face in the crowd smiling at him...a face he’d only seen for a brief time but every second of that time was branded in his mind. This was another resplendent golden beauty, and emotions that William tried so hard to tamp down came flooding back to him almost all at once.  


  


  
The coronation ball was a splendid affair, far more fancy than William would have been used to but for one surprise unwanted guest, he was right in his element, flirting with some pretty young things that had gathered around him...like daisies toward the sun. The man was absolutely shameless, almost as if he wasn’t married. When a pair of bright blue eyes turned toward the thrones in the middle of the room and threw him a wink. the new king excused himself calmly to his ministers and his queen, kissing her hand before strolling toward the other man. “Ah! If it isn’t the man of the hour!” That lilting French accent was unmistakable, and so was the hand lifting the wine goblet toward him in salute.  
“Might I speak with you? Alone?” William eyed the gathered ladies and as soon as the blond dismissed them with a string of apologetic and disappointed sounding French, William grabbed his arm and dragged him over to a faraway corner where they weren’t likely to be noticed but could still observe the party.  
“Unhand me!” Louis demanded, yanking his arm away from William’s grip. “This may be your coronation but I am a king also, you will not handle me this way!”  
“Funny, you’ve had no objections to me handling you roughly before. In fact, you begged it of me.” William delighted in the flood of scarlet that rushed into Louis’ cheeks at that, and was torn between grinning and shouting at him. “What are you doing here?!” he hissed when he got near enough toward the small figure in the golden coat. Louis peered at him from under his big feathered hat and his angry face slowly turned into the older man flashing him his sunniest grin, which made William angrier. “What? Is that any way to greet a fellow monarch...I mean I did come a long way to partake in this coronation, you know.”  
“Why? Louis...we aren’t friends.”  
“Oh I know, I think I know that better than anyone.” _We were far more than friends_ remained unspoken but hung between them awkwardly like a thick fog. “But when I heard that little Billy was going to be king in his own right, I simply had to see for myself. And I think it’s proper unfair that you get four kingdoms and I get two.”  
“Still as greedy as ever.”  
“Keep that up and I won’t give you your coronation gift. Anyway it’s good to see you as well, William. Now that you’ve got your own crown, I figured I’d be a good neighbor and teach you the ways of kinging.”  
“I’ve been a ruler since my birth, I don’t need kinging lessons from _you_, thanks. And when have you ever been a good neighbor, you’re a terrible neighbor. Europe hates you because all you do is make war on everyone.”  
“Glorious war, and you can’t say anything to me about that because you’re a soldier...you’re always away at war. And besides you became king just to oppose me, how petty are you?”  
William’s dark eyes rolled up toward the ceiling as he muttered a silent prayer for patience before turning back to Louis. “One, not everything is about you. Contrary to popular belief, you are not the sun and everything in the universe doesn’t revolve around you. And you certainly can’t call anybody petty, you are the king of petty.”  
“Exactly, glad you acknowledge it. Although I think it’s rather adorable that you tried to come for my title.”  
“Whatever. I’ll not let you spoil this day for me, I wasn’t just handed my crown. I fought for it and earned it, and I have the right to celebrate that.”  
“So? And you think that makes you an expert on kinging? It doesn’t.” Louis coolly took a sip from his wine, crystal blue eyes giving William a blazing look over the rim of his glass as he smoothly switched from English to far less accented Spanish, learned from his mother and wife no doubt. William nearly shivered as he remembered those same exact eyes staring at him from when they were in the convent...that same burning look as if Louis were channeling all of his inner heat to scorch the younger man with his eyes. The last time Louis looked at him like that, they’d ended up fucking on his map table in his war tent. He’d spoken Spanish then, too.  


  
“I’ve seen the way you bowed your head to that lord...why would you do that?”  
“Because I show respect.”  
“You can show respect to a lord without giving away all of yours. That man should’ve bowed first, not you.”  
“Honestly, Louis! It’s such a small thing...”  
“Small things become big things! If you let them get away with that, they think they can get away with anything! In France, we rule our lords but in England, it seems that the lords rule the monarch. First rule of kinging, my friend...be bold with your power.” Small as he was, Louis was never afraid to flex his muscle, show the world that he was the boss (or so he considered himself) which is why the man was nearly always at war.  
“You think you’re so strong, and you want the world to think it. But constantly having to show your strength means showing your hand, and that implies weakness. I can make you show your hand rather easily, King of France.”  
“You’ve been king for all of twenty minutes and you think...”  
“Who died and made _you_ the expert on wearing a crown, I wonder?” William danced his fingers across the pale skin of the back of Louis’ neck, making the other man’s breath hitch. “I told you, I can make you show your hand. You didn’t just come all this way to congratulate me, there’s always an ulterior motive with you.”  
“D...Damn you!” Louis hissed, using every muscle in his body to prevent himself from slumping over as William continued his attentions, brushing a thumb across his jaw before suddenly freezing and dropping his hand as if burned. “What’s wrong?”  
“We...we shouldn’t. We can’t. I’m sorry.”  
“Why not? Don’t tell me you don’t still want this. Don’t still want _me._”  
“You should know better than I that what I want no longer matters. As you’ve said, you’ve been king longer than I.” William disappeared into the crowd into a group of bewigged English lords, taking his wife’s arms. Louis watched his back in a mixture of surprise, disbelief and bitter disappointment rising in his chest before sweeping from the room with a pretty brown haired, black-eyed girl in tow that he'd just picked up on the way. She didn't have a lot of curves which suited him fine in a pinch. Her hair even curled much like William's and with enough imagination, he could probably pretend. If his brother could, then so could he. He didn't even ask the king's leave, he didn't need it.  


  


  


  
William walked into his throne room after the sun had long set and everyone had retired for the night, face still slightly damp after splashing cold water on it. Damn him, damn the man!  
Damn him and his cursed smile to the deepest layers of hell...damn Louis Dieudonné. Damn this...spell that he seemed to have over him, the invisible strings that he still had tied around William's heart and mind, even while so very far away and with this crown on his head now! Even while with his wife, every once in a while the memory of golden hair and a smile bright enough to blind as well as being sharp enough to cut would enter his mind. Everything seemed so much smaller in The Hague and in his general's tent..just saying _his_ throne room sounded surreal in a way. He had planned and fought for this moment, but now that it was here he couldn’t really believe it. And of course, while this hard-won moment was supposed to be about him, Louis fucking Bourbon decided to sweep in like a tide and wash away all of the progress that William had made at setting the wounds he had left, in purging him from his mind and his being, he shows up like a bad habit yet again and...  
"How is it possible that you're still able to tempt me so?" Setting the lantern he carried on a table for some light in the dark room, in the quiet away from his wife and his ministers, he sat in the largest of the two thrones...the other being unoccupied.  
“Temptation, is it? I just always assumed that it was pensiveness, and fear.” William twitched at the sound of that voice, lifting his lantern to see that it was indeed Louis before him, holding a candle of his own. His blond curls loose around his shoulders, the golden thread in his nightshirt and in the fleurs-de-lis of his dressing robe glittered in the dim light...he almost looked like an angel. Despite the strands of silver beginning to frost his hair and the subtle lines making their way around his eyes, Louis Bourbon was indeed like fine Bourbon, he somehow seemed even more appealing with age. But William knew better, looks could be deceiving. And it was always warned that Satan would present a fair countenance. "Your hair's got silver in it."  
"Of course it does, I'm over fifty now. I see you have no grey in your hair at all."  
“Louis. Why are you here? Come to antagonize me when we’re all alone?”  
“Not at all...I just came to see how my favorite junior king was doing.”  
“Come to give me more kinging rules then?”  
“You know it. I figured you should know a secret kinging ritual...one king to another, the other half of your coronation gift." William remembered opening the presents after the party, and Louis' was a beautifully tailored coat. "There's more? You spoil me."  
"Of course. When the French do something, we do it all the way. And besides, what else would you expect from your favorite temptation?" The blond chuckled, and William smiled despite himself. "Maybe we should...christen your new throne? For luck?” Louis loosened the ties on his robe just so, and the carefully placed mask crumbled until William was openly eyeing him hungrily. “Christen the...you’ve had sex in your throne?”  
“Of course! When you’re a monarch, throne sex is a requirement. It’s part of the kinging rules.” Louis walked until he was face to face with the younger man, leaning in to brush his lips against William’s. William leaned in almost unconsciously, breath becoming ragged as his hands twitched at his sides...he did reach up to grab Louis' waist, but softly pushed him back instead of pulling him forward. Louis looked up at him as if he were slapped, and that look broke William's heart. “No, Lulu. That’s done with...I’m a married man as well as you are and unlike you, I respect my vows.”  
“You love me, William. You know you do, you can't look back on that time we spent together at war and say that you don't." Louis' voice broke and trembled, and he cursed himself inwardly for how much he probably sounded like one of his own discarded mistresses. Was this cosmic punishment? Was God punishing him for breaking hearts by having it happen to him?  
“You’ll always be mijn zonneschjin, you know that.” William smiled sadly and brushed a golden curl behind Louis’ ear. “But we cannot...not anymore. My wife..."  
"Do you love her?"  
"What?"  
"Do. You. Love. Her? It's a simple yes or no question. Is it because she's younger and I've gotten old? I mean I'd understand, but it would hurt like hell..."  
"It's deeper than looks. Yes...I do love her. She's an amazing woman." Louis swallowed, and William saw that answer cut him to the quick. "The same way that you love me?"  
"I will never love anyone the way that I love you."  
"Exactly. Kings have wives for business. They are our friends, co-parents. Advisors, companions. But." Louis reached out a trembling hand to touch William's face, and he didn't even push him away this time. "We also have wives for pleasure. Wives that we love, that own our hearts and minds. That we experience passion with...kings have done this since time immemorial, you'll have no stain on your soul." He brushed a thumb across William's cheek, causing him to inhale sharply and lean into the touch, trembling slightly. "You're saying that you'll be my mistress?"  
"Of course not. I'd be your lover. Your partner in ways that she could not. I'm actually okay with sharing, I mean we can't be together all the time. Having lands to look after and all that...and besides, you have to admit that we have far too much fun fighting and fucking to give that up." Louis huffed out a laugh, and so did William. "Well, you have a point there. Who else would I annoy, none of the other kings of Europe are as fun." Their soft laughter echoed around the room until it slowly died down, a smile back on both of their faces. "So, do you want the other half of your coronation gift or not? Bid me to leave, and I'll leave...after all, this is your domain and I have to acquiesce to that."  
"You acquiesce to no one."  
"I'm trying to be deep here." Louis took a deep breath, cornflower eyes boring into William's polished jet. "But before you send me away, let me introduce to you the second rule of kinging."  
"And that would be?" William breathed, wondering how he and Louis' faces got so close again.  
"Take what you want. Acquiesce to no one, and never question yourself. Stand with both feet planted firm like a man. Good or bad, make a decision and stand by it. Take the leap."  
This time, William closed the gap between their lips, hands on either side of the older man's face. Louis sighed into the kiss and melted into William's touch, almost as if he'd been a puppet who'd lost the strings that had been holding him upright. William wrapped an arm around Louis' waist and pulled the smaller form into his lap, Louis gladly and easily straddled him before undoing some of the buttons on his doublet and leaning down to kiss William's neck. He smirked against his skin when he heard a sharp gasp, placing another kiss there before raising his head to look at him again, placing both of William's hands on his hips. William groaned into Louis' mouth when they started to move their hips together, but then suddenly pulled away. Louis gripped a handful of his own hair in frustration. _"Ventrebleu_, what's the problem now?!" he whined, though he would deny it until the day he died and William laughed. "Patience, my lovely French lily...I just remembered that we can't really do this without something to, ease the way as it were. It would hurt you a great deal, and I'd prefer to do that in a fight on equal footing rather than in an experience that's meant to be pleasurable for us both. If you could allow me to rise for a bit in order to fetch..."  
"No need." Louis gave a cheeky smile as he undid William's breeches with one hand while reaching into the pocket of the dressing robe that he was still wearing, pulling out a small but beautiful glass bottle. "Third rule of kinging, mon cher...it isn't wise to mix business and pleasure. But if you're going to do so, be prepared for both scenarios. Always be prepared for any conceivable possibility, because anything is possible." Louis popped the cork with his teeth pouring some oil into his hand before stroking it slowly over William's cock. William let out a loud moan and buried his face into Louis' hair. "You're killing me."  
"Then let us die together, non? I bring about your little death and you bring about mine, like good enemies should."  
"It seems I've much to learn about kinging." William said, stroking Louis' own cock.  
"Indeed, and I have much to teach you." Louis panted and finally removed his hand, making William whimper even as the smell of jasmine filled his nose. Louis' favorite perfume, the man practically slathered himself in the stuff so that one could smell him before they even saw him. He was going to be noticed in every conceivable way...it got to the point that every time that William smelled jasmine, his mind flashed always to Louis. When Louis made to stick those oil-slick fingers inside himself, William batted his hand away. "Allow me." William poured some oil into the palm of his own hand before replacing the cork, pushing up both nightshirt and robe around Louis' waist while gently working the first finger inside and was rewarded when Louis let out a trembling, breathless sigh. He moaned a bit more deeply when he added the second one and started to rock against them. They'd danced this dance dozens of times before, and hopefully God would grant them hundreds more...they knew all the moves perfectly, and so William was seated on the throne of the Kings of Britain while seating himself inside Louis to the hilt in a fluid, smooth motion. Speaking of seats and thrones, it amazed William how kingly Louis made himself look in almost every situation. Even right now, he sat on William's cock as if it were his throne, riding him like a king on his hunting charger. He gave that hair that he was so fond of a sharp tug, after Louis made a noise that was a cross between a moan and a squeal, he forced himself down on William harder and nipped at his earlobe in relaliation. William cried out as if he were being hurt, but in an oh-so delicious way. They fucked like they fought, a constant war and competition to drive each other to the edge and see which man would come out on top. Or just come in general, whichever one came first.  
"That little wench you left the ball with, I saw you with her. She couldn't satisfy you could she, not like I could." He moved his hips and stroked Louis' cock to the point where he screamed again, hands trembling at William's shoulders. "A poor distraction she must've made indeed." And finally, the dance was done when William came with a shout, Louis swallowing that shout with his mouth in order to cover his own cry of pleasure. Both men went limp, William leaning against the velvet-covered back of this chair that now belonged to him and Louis panting into his shoulder, hair clinging to the sheen of sweat that now covered his skin. "You always were a screamer." William huffed.  
"You love it."  
"That I do."  
They stayed tangled together for some minutes sharing soft kisses, not worrying about being stumbled upon and just basking in the glow for as long as they could...France and England were not close, it may be ages before their next opportunity so they would make the most of this one. Louis climbed off of him and settled himself on unsteady feet while William relaced his breeches and stood up, pushing his own hair out of his face. His eyes turned back to one of the seats he'd be ruling from while he wasn't at war. "Damn it." William hissed, moving to the table and hovering his lantern over the throne. "We've got spend on it...shit! How are we going to cover this up?!" Louis came over himself to investigate, then looked at William with a serene expression. "Calm down, it's a couple of drops...they're so small that nobody would particularly notice unless they looked really closely. It could be paint, it could be anything. If it bothers you so, get it reupholstered."  
"How are you so calm about this?!"  
"Hey, a few drops of seed after christening the throne is actually good luck. It means your reign will be prosperous and also that your line will be fruitful and rule for a long time. Old king's legend."  
"I need a book on all these kinging rules and legends because I think you're making most of this up." But William was smiling. Louis smiled and kissed his cheek. "I'll have a copy sent to you as soon as I am able."  
"Let me show you to your rooms, I'd be an awful host if I did not."  
"You could show me to _your_ rooms instead."  
"With my wife there? Let's not cause an international incident on my first night as king, please and thank you."  
"Very well." Louis held out his arm and William took it as they walked toward the chambers for visiting dignitaries, the golden embroidery in Louis' sleeping clothes glowing in the fire again. "That nightshirt and that robe...very fine embroidery." "Thank you...I had it made not too long ago. It's my favorite set."  
"Indeed, it looks very fine on you. But you know where it would look even finer?"  
Louis feigned offense. "And where could it possibly look finer than on my body?"  
"I don't know...maybe off of it, perhaps? On the floor of your rooms, where I'll visit you before you leave." That earned William a smack to the shoulder.  
"You would solicit the King of France thus?"  
"Yes...isn't that what kings do? Make a decision and go after what they want?"  
"Indeed they do. I have taught you well."  
"And I've always been a quick study. Didn't you say I have more to learn?" They were at Louis' rooms, and the French king opened the door. "Indeed. Come, let's get to the second half of the lesson."  
"Very well then." William walked into the open door, clearly an invitation and then shut it behind him, hoping he remembered to get back to Mary's rooms before morning. This must have been a kinging rule that Louis had forgotten to mention...having mistresses may have been fine and dandy but if you're sleeping with a rival king, make sure the queen doesn't catch you.


End file.
